You know this is for eating, right? - A MorMor Fanfic
by IberianWhoLynx3
Summary: Jim and Seb try to cook a turkey in an American hotel room and make deadly instruments out of plastic utensils. - Lucille and Lilly Pleeeaaasse review!


**A/N:** This is written by myself, IberianWhoLynx3 and a fellow MorMor shipper IberianWhoLocked3.

Jim burst into the small flat he and Sebastian shared. "We have to go to America, get some plane tickets booked!"

"Mmghf."

Jim groaned. "Seb, wake up!"

"Huh? Wha-"

"Oh just get up, Sebastian. Book some plane tickets to Massachusetts for tomorrow."

"Fine, boss." Sebastian slowly took the magazine off his face and stood up, walking over to the computer. He groaned. "Why in Satan's used tissues- oh, whatever. I'm sure you have a good reason."

Jim grinned. "I always have a good reason. Plane tickets, now."

Sebastian stretched his sore legs. The six-hour flight from London to Massachusetts wasn't the longest he'd had, but it sure was the one he most wanted to get off. His boss was bored out of his mind, and was now fiddling with a plastic fork, trying to turn it into a deadly instrument. Most days, Seb would be rather interested, but today he was just plain exhausted. He snatched the fork with his quick reflexes, stowed it in the pocket in front of him, and smiled.

"That's better," he said.

"But Seb, it's boring," whined Jim. "What am I supposed to do?"

Sebastian Moran sighed. "Do you want to be arrested for terrorism? How 'bout you sleep, like a normal person. However close you can be to normal, that is."

"But sleep-"

Seb put his hand over his boss's mouth. "Shut. Up."

Jim rolled his eyes and turned over. "Fine."

"Hey! That's my word."

The consulting criminal whacked him, hard. "Hey, I'm trying to sleep over here!"

"You said that sleeping was boring." Seb mumbled, just soft enough so Jim wouldn't hear.

"Sebastian, I will fire you." Apparently Jim had heard.

"Hah. You can't do that, you need me! Besides, I would kill you before you could. I could send a bullet right through your 'genius' brain." teased Seb.

"Shut up, Seb. I wouldn't let you kill me. Have you no respect for the sleeping?"

"Ha."

"Shhhhh."

The rest of the flight was passed in silence with the occasional teasing jab.

"Sebby! I'm feeling… inspired."

"Goodbye world. Nice knowing ya!" Sebastian rolled his blue eyes. "What is it now, Einstein?"

"Let's make a turkey, Seb!"

"With what exactly? Do you not remember that we'll be in a hotel room?"

"The microwave!" Jim said excitedly.

"There is no way this will turn out well. Can't we just eat at a restaurant, like everyone else?"

"No! We have to make it! You can be in charge of the cooking!"

As Jim was stating his brilliant ideas, they stepped into the hotel. Cheery music played inside the warm lobby. Seb looked over his shoulder at the hotel clerk, and felt almost sorry for her. A consulting criminal and a sniper putting a large bird into a hotel microwave would not end well. She looked as blissfully ignorant, as usual. Sebastian sighed.

"This is not going to work," he casually remarked.

Jim giggled maniacally. "That's why it'll be so much fun, Seb!"

For about the eighth time in as many minutes, Sebastian Moran rolled his eyes like an exasperated child. Although, if he thought about it, Jim was the real child here.  
"Boss…" Sebastian called with an exasperated voice.  
"What, darling?"

"How the hell are you even supposed to fit a turkey into a microwave?"

"You can do it! Just put it in somehow."  
"Oh, that really helped," Seb sighed, "You do realize that I've never even eaten turkey in my life, let alone cooked it, right?"  
"Well, neither have I. But I'm starting to like these American things," Jim retorted stubbornly, "Besides, you have to do what your boss says, Sebastian."

"Shut up!"

After much mangling and blood, the turkey was ripped out of its nearly impenetrable packaging and put into the microwave with rosemary on it.

"Wait a second! Sebby, you did it wrong." Jim attempted to pull the turkey out. "You have to take out the gizzard and the heart! Argh. Seb, can you get this out?"

"No, Jim, you don't! It says here, 'Defrost turkey. Cook in oven for…' well, I can't read it. It has a bit of a tear wear the rest of the instructions are. So, fine."

Jim reached into Sebastian's belt and pulled out a pocket knife.

"Here, Sebby. Let me do it."

Seb didn't have time to protest. Jim proceeded to gut the turkey, getting a considerable amount of dark red blood all over the walls, counter, and carpeted floor of the hotel room.

"Oh, god! Jim! You're getting blood everywhere! What will the hotel clerk think? That we murdered someone?!"

"Well, we have murdered people…"

"That's not what I meant!"

Ding!

About ten minutes later, the microwave door was opened. Much to their dismay, Jim and Seb had not made the turkey as delicious looking as was hoped. It was overcooked (or was it undercooked?), and slightly slimy. Well, more than slightly.

"Uh, boss…"

"Yesss?"

"The turkey is a bit green. And, uh, slimy? I think that's a bad thing."

Jim tried to contain his grin, but it broke out into a chuckle.

"Try it!" He coaxed.

Sebastian gingerly took a small piece of meat from the carcass and popped it in his mouth. His face remained emotionless for a while as he chewed. At least it wasn't terrible.

"It's actually a bit…"

"Yes?" Jim said expectantly.

"...Good." Seb finished.

"Oh," Jim's face fell in what could almost be... disappointment? "Well, enjoy."

"Want some?"

"Not now, thanks." But then Jim realized with a smile that he would have to be patient before the poison kicked in.


End file.
